


Precious Alor'ade.

by One_Real_Imonkey



Series: Star Wars One-shots and unfinished WIPs. [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguements, Betrayal, Blanket Permission, Brotherly Angst, Childhood Trauma, Courting Attempts, Death Threats, Death Watch (Star Wars), Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Force Suppression (Star Wars), Hostage Situations, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel, Mandalorian Adoption (Star Wars), Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, No actual relationships - Freeform, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Overprotective Brothers, Parental Jaster Mereel, Parenthood, Past Child Abuse, Poison, Politics, Protective Jango Fett, Protective Jaster Mereel, Threats of Violence, Touch-Starved Obi-Wan Kenobi, Treason, True Mandalorians (Star Wars), Worried parent, Young Jango Fett, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, attempted child murder, child sickness, mandalorian view of the Jedi, not chronological
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 13:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_Real_Imonkey/pseuds/One_Real_Imonkey
Summary: The last thing the True Mandalorians were expecting on their one-night stop for small repairs on Stewjon was their Mand'alor to return with a new ad.He was tiny and sickly and far too cold, but he was safe now, and that was what mattered.
Relationships: Jango Fett & Jaster Mereel, Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Jaster Mereel
Series: Star Wars One-shots and unfinished WIPs. [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209128
Comments: 87
Kudos: 482





	1. Adoption

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Star Wars.  
> Jaster is age unknown but an adult, Jango is 11, Obi is 2-3 ish.  
> Please enjoy.

Jaster knew the last thing anyone had expected was their Mand’alor to return from his patrol with an ik’aad.

A tiny, shivering, soaking wet ik’aad, wrapped in his crimson cloak.

For him to land gracefully just a short distance from the camp, the little  ik’aad cradled protectively in his arms. 

This poor poor ik’aad that Jaster had to help, because he was Mando’ade and how could he not. They were only stopping on the planet for a few repairs, just for a night, but if there was one thing Mandalorians could do, it was find ade in need.

The little one shivered further into his grip, pressing his head into the cold  beskar that Jaster wished was some more comfortable material for this tiny child that deserved far better than he’d suffered.

“Buir.”

Jango darted across camp towards him, stopping a hairs breadth of his legs to peer up at the child in his arms, who chose the perfect time to sneeze, and Jango’s eyes lit up.

Of course Jango would be excited to get a vod’ika.

The little one just needed to survive first.

No Ik'aad should ever be so cold.

“Buir?”

“Come on Jango,  lets get this little one to the baar’ur.”

The reaction of  B’r Qest was telling enough, almost stealing the boy from his arms to treat him. It wasn’t often anyone would see panic in her eyes, but here... she was scared for this  child's life.

“Alor, I need to talk about this.” she nodded to Jango, and Jaster understood. His  ad’ika was only 11, that was young for a conversation like this.

Fortunately, Jango was very smart, and had asked for nothing more than a proper hug, before he’d run off to find Myles or Silas or someone else. 

“Alor, Jaster, where did you find this little one?”

“His... his  dar’buire ,  kriff Auspa , they were holding him under the water in the river.”

It was too her credit that she didn’t still or falter as she removed all the wet clothes in favour of warmer blankets, except for the pause she took at the bruises,  kriff the bruises.

He couldn’t be more than two surely.

He was so underweight, so small, so sick, and the bruises where the hands had been holding him under the frigid water...

“Jaster, I'll do the best I can, but it will be  up to the Manda for him to make it.”

“The demagolka?”

“Dead. I let them explain, because there was always the  chance I'd read it wrong and it had been some sort of ceremony, but they were so angry I pulled him from under the water. They didn’t... I didn’t realise  Stewjon saw people with the Manda so badly. They... it’s awful  Auspa , he’s not even a child to them. As far as they were  concerned he was a monster placed in their child's bed by a demon, that had stolen their real child, and was instead a harbinger of chaos and that the only way to free their society from the curse was to cleanse the monster in the river and kill the monster. It's legal to drown  ade . Because they’re not  ade as far as they’re concerned.”

Jaster knew his voice was sharp and harsh, but his hands were shaking and he wanted to break something, he really  really did, but  B’r Qest was professional, and didn’t let the story stop her motions, though her voice was tight.

“The river. In this weather?”

“I don’t know how long he was under, but he coughed up quite a bit of water when I got him  out. He's been in and out of consciousness, shivering, sneezing.”

“This would be dangerous for an ad of healthy weight, but he looks as though he was being abused before they tried this, Alor. He's been starved, he’s far smaller than he should be.”

“They said they gave him time to prove himself, that some of the monsters their  ade are replaced with can have control or help, but that all he brought was chaos. I think they tried to starve it out of him.”

“I’ll do what I can, go see Jango.”

“Vor entye.”

“Oh, Alor, does he have a name?”

“Obi-Wan.”

“Vor’e, I'll do everything I can.”

Jaster left the  ik’aad in her care, and prayed to the Manda and the  Ka’ra he’d pull through.

He left her tent and braced himself for the cold. There was only a thin layer of snow on the ground, but the air smelt of more snow and every buy’ce-less breath puffed out in a visible cloud.

“Buir!”

This time when Jango ran at him he scooped the boy up into his arms, spinning him round as his ad  squealed .

One day he’d be too big for this, but not yet.

“Su’cuy Jan’ika. How was today?”

“You were only gone for a few hours, Buir, but I had history, we learnt about  Mand’alor the Sturdy.”

“Oh, that’s a  fascinating part of history, did you behave?”

“Buir, I always behave.”

Despite the rest of the situation, Jaster laughed. That statement was debatable at best. Jango was never malicious in his misbehaviour, but his ad wasn’t always the best at focusing and that had led to one or two incidents over the years.

“Have you been bothering Montross?”

“Just a little, but he was being a grump. I swear Buir, he doesn’t like me.”

That might not be so wrong. Jaster didn’t know what his second’s issue with his ad was, but sometimes people didn’t gel, and that happened with adults and ade. And Jango had pulled a prank or two on Montross, usually with the help of Myles or Silas, and Montross was the serious type who didn’t love that sort of thing.

“Oh, but Buir  Buir Buir , who was the ik’aad?”

“A little foundling who needed our help. We're going to do everything we can to help him too.”

“Will he be my vod’ika?”

That wasn’t an easy question to answer. Jango was unfortunate enough to have been exposed to death, but that didn’t make the conversation any easier.

“I hope so,  Jan’ika . I hope so.”

.

.

.

Repairs were finished just before sun-up, and Jaster had no issue in leaving that  haran of a planet, though he was definitely sending a squad to make sure there were no more  ade in Ob’ika’s position. 

Ob'ika.

The  ik’aad had made it through the night, though he did not look much better, painfully underweight and painfully cold and just as sick, sicker, in fact.

But  B’r Qest had hope, and that was enough for Jaster.

He wasn’t particularly fond of going out without his armour, not outside of his home or a few select other safe places. The med bay on their largest troop carrier wasn’t typically one of them, but  Auspa had allowed him into the side room she was giving  Ob’ika , and Jaster knew the  ik’aad needed body het if he was going to recover, and it was well-proven that  ik’aad settled best when they could sleep to a heartbeat, and if that meant sitting with his newest  ad’ika tucked against his chest.

Jango joined him when he was out of his classes or training, desperate to get to know his  vod’ika , even if this sickness that had been brought on by the cold was making him... unresponsive. He slept most of the day and night, and he wasn’t particularly with it when he was awake, but between the cot they’d laid out for him and Jaster’s hold, Qest assured him that  Ob’ika was getting better.

Little by little.

Sometimes the boy would stare up at him, blue eyes wide, like he was studying his new Buir’s face, and the first time he’d been awake when Jango had joined them, he’d given Jango the first smile any of them had seen on him and reached out weakly for Jango instead.

Jango had been overjoyed and decided it was a sign from the Manda that Obi-Wan was meant to be part of their aliit.

Jaster couldn’t help but agree.

The first nightmare had been tough. Jaster wasn’t sure what it’s cause had been,  Ka’ra knew this  Ik'aad had far too many reasons for them already, but it had made half the loose objects in the room float about before he’d woken with a scream and they’d all dropped with a clatter.

It was no matter, not really. All sorts of  Mando’ade had the Manda’s gift, and given how little they thought of the  Jetiise , of course they had their own ways to deal with it.  Ob’ika was strong, yes, stronger than most he’d seen and oh so young for it, but he’d be fine and he’d learn control. They didn’t need the child-stealers, and if  Jaster had his way, they’d never get near his ad. He could understand why  Buire might worry or panic on entering a room to that, and clearly  Stewjon was very superstitious, but that just didn’t justify such  demagolka action.

It didn’t matter though, Obi-Wan was Jaster’s  ad’ika now, and Jaster wasn’t ever going to let anyone hurt him again.

Neither was Jango, from the looks of it.

Auspa thought he should live, but even as he was slowly getting better, Jaster knew she was worried. It was only as they got back to  Manda’yaim , to  Keldabe and their home and their  state-of-the-art clinic, that Jaster finally relaxed with the knowledge that if  anyone could save his  ik’aad , it would be  B’r Laana and her people.

He was right.

Once  Ob’ika was receiving proper medical care that managed a standard far higher than any field or ship med bay could manage, he started to improve dramatically, started to talk, though shy and reserved.

Their first conversations had been tricky, because the Manda had cursed Ob’ika with the ability to feel other people, to feel all the hatred and fear his demagolka dar’buire had felt towards him, and Jaster did his best to make sure he was letting Ob’ika feel all the love and protectiveness he was deserving of. All those years training to shield from Force sensitives had really paid off, or else he wouldn’t have known how to broadcast an emotion. Sure, he’d been taught how to stop himself broadcasting, but what was the difference really?

Well, he sent another wave of love towards Jango and Obi as Jango helped him with a puzzle and couldn’t keep the smile off his face at the way Obi perked up just a little at it. The kid was so receptive to all types of affection, touch starved as well as just starved, desperate for affection, and Jaster hoped young enough that he’d never have to remember the  haran his  dar’buire had forced on him.

But  Ob’ika had responded well to finding out he was going to be living with Jaster and Jango, that he was going to be part of their  aliit now, that he was going to be safe and loved.

That he was going to be Obi-Wan Mereel.

He was very picky about who he let near him, fine with Jaster and Jango and Myles and Qest and Laana and Silas and a lot of his aran’e and Headhunters, but there were many people he shied away from, flinched away or tucked himself into Jaster as best he could when they came close. A few  verde , like Rosa Vexen or  Talooso Peuyf or Montross, though the last of those might have been Jango’s influence. 

Ob'ika clearly adored his  ori’vod , and it warmed Jaster’s heart.

Within a few weeks Obi had put on a substantial amount on weight, so much so that he was close to healthy again, his skin had brightened from  it’s pallor and he was so much stronger. Seeing him tearing down the halls after Jango when only weeks before he’d been falling asleep every few minutes, shaking and sick, coughing and barely able to lift his head, had raised Jaster’s spirits through the roof.

They had to be careful, Laana had warned him, because  ade needed to be cared for when they were very young, and Obi hadn’t been. Certainly he was getting enough food and care now, but he had missed too much for too long, he would never grow as big or as strong as he should have and while he would likely be more than capable of knocking a seasoned verd on their  shebs when he was healthy he would always be more prone to tiredness and sickness, he’d just been so ill.

That haunted him, and probably would for a long time. And it haunted Obi too, the boy was terrified of water, refused baths with pure panic, even when Jaster was there holding him close and projecting as much safety and calm as he could on him, and even  then it was hell to see his  ik’aad so scared when he should be safe, when he knew he was safe and was just too young to rationalise where the panic was coming from and the panic that came from the panic he couldn’t understand. 

But Jaster had his  ade , and they were safe and sound.

And they had to stay that way, because Jaster couldn’t lose either of them, and as the war with  Kyr’tsad worsened, his fears that he’d return from a mission and someone would be waiting to tell him that they’d been attacked and his  ade were taken or dead... it had him shooting up in the middle of the night, which was usually followed by a subtle check on both his  ade , though sometimes his youngest was already in the room, having either curled up and fallen asleep on Jaster’s floor, a habit it was desperately trying to break, or had worked up the courage to haul himself into Jaster’s bed and cuddle up with his Buir. After all, Buir kept the nightmares away.

It would be worse once Jango had passed his  verd’goten , once he could come on missions. Sure, he could ask for Jango to stay behind, to look after his  vod’ika , but Jango had suffered at Death Watch’s hands already, he wouldn’t be kept from the fight. To have even one of his  ade on the front lines was going to be hard. He didn’t know what he was going to do once they’d both passed their verd’goten...

Kyr'tsad weren’t above using one or both of his  ade to get to him, and  Ka’ra knew Obi wouldn’t be able to last long in the conditions of Death Watch prisoner camps, and that he might rescue his ad only to be too late because something like pneumonia had taken hold, the thought made Jaster shake, and worse, it was a fear Jango had admitted had burdened his own nightmares, just as they had Jaster’s. 

It didn’t matter, because he wasn’t letting anyone touch his  ade while there was breath in his body.

You didn’t touch a  Mandalorian’s child.

And you didn’t touch the  Mand’alor’s children.

The battle their enemies would face just to get close to either of them, forget getting them out of the compound or the city or off the planet.

They were  Haat’ad Alor’ade.

Kyr’tsad didn’t stand a chance.


	2. Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Montross was the Traitor, and Jaster was sick to the stomach about it.  
> Because Montross wasn't on this campaign, he was back in Keldabe, with Obi-Wan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, more content in this AU, unplanned but I hope not unwelcome.  
> Obi is 6, Jango is 14.  
> I don't own Star Wars.  
> Please enjoy.

Montross!

The traitor was Montross.

He wanted it to be a lie, he wanted the person on the comm call they’d found recorded  received from their home in  Keldabe to the  Kyr’tsad camp they’d just raided to be anyone else.

Jaster was going to be sick.

And oh the betrayal stung, Montross had been his second for years now, feeding  kyr’tasd information, costing  Ka’ra knew how many lives, but that wasn’t the problem tearing Jaster up.

The problem was that Montross was in Keldabe.

Where he’d left Ob’ika.

He'd left his youngest with his second while they went on their mission.

He was the traitor, and Jaster had left his ad’ika with him.

Montross was in the city with his  ad’ika and he was the traitor and Obi-Wan was only six and all alone and Jaster had to get to him, had to get him safe, had to...

Had to control his breathing. 

Panic wouldn’t help Ob’ika.

They had to get home.

“Alor, do we call ahead.”

“ Nyac , our best advantage is that Montross doesn’t know we know about him. Load up the ships, we’re going home.”

“Alor, what about...?”

“Wren, can you handle this?”

“Elek Alor.”

“Jate. The rest of you, let everybody know, we load up. Now.”

His people snapped to attention, and he valued them greatly for it, nodding as he swept out of the tent, to find Jango and make sure the ship was going to be ready.

It would take them 15 minutes to be ready to lift off, his people were that good, so he needed to hurry.

“Buir.”

It was a good thing Jango was always looking for Jaster when Jaster was looking for him.

“Ad, be ready, we’re leaving.”

“Now? I thought we had another camp to raid.”

“We’re letting Clan Wren take care of that, we need to get home, now.”

“Why?”

“Somethings come up, with me.”

He wasn’t announcing Montross’ betrayal to the main camp until they were in hyperspace, just in case there were people supporting him within Jaster’s camp, but Jango needed to know. He was 14 now,  verd’goten passed and  beskar’gam earnt. Jaster was getting to grips with allowing him on missions, but he still kept him away from as much of the fighting as possible. And now they needed to get home, and Jango needed to know they had been betrayed, and that Obi was at risk, that his  vod’ika could be in danger.

He guided Jango into the ship, as the camp buzzed around them, the tents already almost  completely collapsed, boxes of ammo being hurried past them.

“We found a recording, the spy talking with  Kyr’tsad from Keldabe, it was Montross.”

“Montross!  Haar’chak ! Huut'unla shabuir.”

“Elek,  Jan’ika , we’re mov...”

“Ob’ika. Oh Ka’ra, he’s alone. Buir, we left him in Montross’ care. He's alone.”

“He’s not alone  Jan’ika , Silas is on  Manda’yaim , as are his  aliit , and there are others. There will be people watching.”

“But if they don’t know. We didn’t know, Buir, who knows what he could do. We're not there.”

“ Jan’ika , he shouldn’t have any idea we knew about him, and if he’s trying to preserve his cover, he won’t hurt Ob’ika. We have to trust that. Keep hope. We'll be home soon.”

There was a shrill whistle as the last of their people boarded the ships and the ship hummed as they took off for home.

He could only pray things would be fine when they got there.

That Montross would indeed be oblivious, that he’d be able to scoop his  ik’aad up into his arms and spin him around without a problem, that Montross could be removed without Obi or Jango being anywhere  nearby .

.

.

.

It took everything Jaster had not to snap, seeing Montross with his ad’ika.

But they were too far away and though Montross wasn’t doing anything beyond standing there, waiting for their return, they couldn’t give themselves away. 

“Hey,  ad’ika , look. It's your Buir.”

From across the landing platform, Jaster could see Obi’s eyes light up as Montross hefted him up onto his hip to walk over to them.

He wanted that  shabuir’s hands off his ad’ika.

He wasn’t sure what tipped the man off, maybe he’d tensed, or his hands had flinched for a weapon slightly, or maybe the man had known all along that he’d been found out, but Montross shifted, his grip on Obi-Wan adjusting suddenly and rapidly, until he was holding Jaster’s  ad’ika in front of him, his other meaty hand around Obi’s too thin neck.

Not enough to cut off air completely, but the threat was clear.

The  demagolka was choking his ad.

The  demagolka could snap his neck before any of them could make a  move to stop him.

He hadn’t even had time to draw a weapon.

Obi's hands pawed at his attacker, his legs kicked out, but six-year-old child against  beskar ... all his  ad’ika was doing was bruising himself, eyes wide with pure terror. It was only then, as Montross stepped closer to them, that Jaster noticed the cuff on his ad’s wrist, with small blue and gold lights humming around it. A Force supressing cuff, he’d guess, given the lack of objects flying about or other force-based panic reactions Ob’ika would usually have, one that must have been there since before they’d arrived back.

They'd come home faster than had been planned, Montross had...

Montross had always been planning to take Obi-Wan, Jaster realised. Perhaps he’d realised he’d been discovered when the Camp fell or maybe he’d decided it was no longer safe to be on  Manda’yaim but either way, his ship was prepared on the landing deck behind them, and he’d already had the cuff on Obi’s arm. He'd probably planned to be long gone by the time Jaster returned with his verde, and he’d planned on taking Ob’ika with him.

“Montross. Let him go!”

“I don’t think I will, Mereel.”

“Montross, whatever your reasoning, politics, a grudge with me, leave  Ob’ika out of it!”

“You’re not fit to be  Mand’alor , Mereel, you don’t have what it takes. Not like Vizsla. You're weak, soft. I mean, do you really think this will ever be worthy Mando’ade.”

The  demagolka squeezed his hand and Obi whimpered, and Jaster was growling, because how dare Montross say such a thing about his ad. How dare he threaten or harm his ad. How dare he!  Ob'ika was more  mandokarla that that  shabuir could ever be. 

He was just a child...

“ Mandalore needs to be strong, Montross, and we can’t do that as heartless conquerors, yes we need to be able to defend out people and our homes, but it is our compassion that gives us strength, not our ruthlessness.  Kyr'tsad attack and enslave  ade , they murder innocents, that isn’t the people we are supposed to be, it’s  dar’manda , huut’unla.”

“ Oh don’t waste your breath,  Mereel . Let me leave and the brat keeps living.”

“You’re not taking my ad anywhere!”

Obi's eyes were fluttering, his kicks and scrambles still going but without much fight left, tears streaming down his face, eyes begging.

Begging his Buir for help.

Begging Jaster to do something, anything.

But Jaster couldn’t move.

Nobody could move.

Nobody could get close enough to do anything, because if they made one false move, Montross could snap Obi’s neck. Or squeeze harder.

None of Jaster’s  verde were willing to risk their youngest alor’ad, to Jaster’s great gratitude. Verde had drawn weapons, they were surrounded on all sides by people loyal to Jaster, there were even snipers getting into position, but no-one could make a move. He wasn’t even sure where Jango was, he hoped still on the ship, hopes that someone had kept him back so he didn’t have to see this. As long as he was behind the verde and out of Montross’ way...

“I will not tell you again, Mereel, let me leave, or you lose your ‘precious’ youngest child.”

“Obi, it’s going to be ok, ad’ika. It's going to be fine. I'm right here.”

He addressed his  ad’ika directly, because talking might be the only thing he could do for the moment, because Obi was scared and his job as Buir should be to make sure his  adike were never scared. Because his voice and reassurance had to be able to do something for his little one.

Montross' voice cut through, cold and sickening.

“He’s right, Obi, it’ll be fine, as long as your Buir does what I want.”

Jaster’s thoughts were racing.

He couldn’t let Montross kill Obi, but neither could he let the  huut’un get away. If they let him have a ship, they could track it, but there was no guarantee that they’d capture Montross, that they’d find Obi, that Obi would be alive...

He could not let them go only to find his ad’ika’s corpse, it would shatter him to be too late.

But what could he do instead?

If a sniper had a clean shot there was a chance that they’d be able to take down Montross without hurting Obi before Montross could hurt Obi. But they needed his information, they needed to know what he knew, they needed him alive.

Besides, that wasn’t a risk he wanted to take, that Obi might get hit, that he might be killed by the snipers or Montross, he couldn’t do it.

Montross sighed, shaking his head and shifting his grip so his only way of holding Obi was the neck, his other hand drawing a blaster and gesturing with it.

“Move, Mereel. Now.”

Montross stepped forwards.

Jaster stepped back.

“See, you’re weak. Tor Vizsla wouldn’t step back, he’d destroy his enemies.”

“ Oh don’t worry, Montross, I'm going to destroy you, and kyr’tsad soon after, but I will not risk my son.”

Behind Montross, the  verde stepped closer, not lowering their weapons for a second. Jaster took another step as Montross did, knowing the  shabuir was heading for his own ship rather than Jaster’s or any of the larger  verde carriers. Obi whimpered, still conscious but barely, head held back by the hand under his chin forcing his jaw up, eyes locked on Jaster.

“Bu...ir.”

“Hey, hey  Ob’ika , eyes on me. Everything's going to be fine,  ad’ika . Everything's going to be ok.”

Montross took a few more steps, and while Jaster moved backwards, his steps were smaller, Montross was coming closer, closer, closer...

Obi was almost in arms reach.

Jaster lunged, not for Montross but for his child, the  suddenness of his motion loosening Montross’ grip just enough to transfer Obi into his arms, the blaster cracking as he did so.

His body,  Beskar lined, was the perfect shield as stun shots sailed past him into Montross, who bounced along the platform,  aran’e on him before he’d even come to a stop, binders on his wrists.

Jaster tore off his  buy’ce and ripped the cuff off of Obi’s arms, tucking him close and pressing a frantic kiss to his  ad’ika’s forehead, brushing a hand through his hair and holding him tight, safe.

“Oh ad’ika, nerik’aad, ni ceta, niceta, ni olar. Gai morut'yc. Ni olar.”

“Buir. Buir.”

Obi's voice  hiccupped with sobs, but he was in Jaster’s arms and he was safe.

“Obi!”

Jaster opened one arm as Jango bolted towards them, ducking into the hug and pressing his forehead to Obi, sans buy’ce.

Looking up, Jaster nodded to Myles, his new second in command, who nodded back. He’d clearly kept Jango back.

Away from the fight.

Away from the threat to Jaster’s aliit.

“ Jan’ika ,  ori’vod , ori’vod.”

Obi was clinging on for dear life, and Jaster wasn’t planning on letting go. 

Behind them, Montross was hauled to his feet, cursing as loud as he could.

“They’ll burn  Mereel , it’ll all burn, and we’ll rise from the ashes. You think you have a chance in hells to win, you fuck, you’re weak, you don’t have what it takes to rule Mandalore, and neither of them ever will. They'll be gutted slowly and painfully, Mereel, and Tor might make you watch, bound and helpless as his feet, just for the hell of it, just to prove to everyone how weak you are...”

Jaster shifted, so he was still holding both his  adike while also glaring at the  aruetii .

“...and I can’t wait to hear their screams, your scr...mpfhhfhhf.”

He was grateful to whomever gagged the man, forcing him to his knees as they did.

“Montross, you are under arrest, you will be interrogated and then you will be executed,  aruetyc demagolka. Get him out of my sight!”

He dropped his head  ad the  demagolka was dragged away, still spitting behind the gag, and dropped his chin to Obi’s head.

“You’re safe,  ner ik’aad . I’m here. It's ok. I'm here now.”

.

.

.

Jaster wasn’t too surprised that all the news  holo’s over the next few weeks displayed the  holo of him, crouched with his  ade in his arms, glaring daggers at the traitor.

Even he had to admit the fire in his eyes, the way he held his stance as he held his boys close, he looked like a  Mand’alor should.

That was going to be the image that went down in the history books, he could feel it.

That or the one a few seconds later where he was pulling both his  ade in, face pressed into his youngest’s hair, eyes pressed closed in relief.

Mando'ade through and through.

At least that’s what his advisors and the people who tried to manage his image claimed. 

Jaster knew how he was perceived was important as the Mand’alor, for him and for relations between the clans and all their people's futures. For promoting the Haat Mando’ade to the New Mandalorians without giving up what they believed in and cared about, for encouraging their people to rally behind him in the war against kyr’tsad, for creating a strong and safe future for his ade.

But he didn’t really care about whether this image helped or hindered him, though it did.

He didn’t care whether his statement to Montross about compassion over violence would appeal to the New  Mandalorians . He already knew his protecting his  ade would be seen as a powerful symbol to his own clans and followers.

He cared about having his ade safe.

He lay on his bed, swiping through the news articles with one of his  ade on each side, fast asleep.

Safe and sound. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> kyr'tsad- Death Watch  
> ka'ra- stars/ ancient mythical ruling council of elders  
> Ob'ika- little Obi-Wan (affectionate)  
> ad'ika- small child 3-13 (affectionate)  
> Alor- sole leader  
> Nyac- no  
> Elek- yes  
> Jate- good  
> Buir- parent  
> ad- child  
> verd'goten- coming of age trial taken at 13  
> beskar'gam- Mandalorian armour  
> vod'ika- little sibling  
> Haar'chak- damnit!  
> huut'unla shabuir- cowardly bastard  
> Jan'ika- little Jango (affectionate)  
> Manda'yaim- Mandalore (the planet)  
> aliit- family/clan  
> ik'aad- baby (technically 0-3 but being used affectionately by Jaster for his youngest child)  
> demagolka- child abuser/ war criminal/ worst of the worst (huge insult)  
> Mand'alor- sole leader  
> Mando'ade- Mandalorian  
> mandokarla- Mandalorian spirit and soul  
> ade- children  
> dar'manda- no longer mandalorian.  
> verde- soldiers  
> alor'ad- child of the mand'alor.  
> adike- children (affectionate)  
> huut'un- coward  
> aran'e- guards  
> buy'ce- helmet  
> ner ik'aad- my baby  
> ni ceta- I'm sorry  
> ni olar- I'm here.  
> gai morut'yc- you're safe  
> ori'vod- older sibling  
> aruetii- traitor  
> aruetyc- traitorous  
> Haat Mando'ade- True Mandalorians
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.  
> A few people made comments about Montross, and I'd had a few ideas about that anyway, but I thought it would be fun to write. Actually I couldn't get the idea out of my head, so thank you.  
> My Tumblr is One_Real_Imonkey.  
> Please R+R.


	3. Sickness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan was prone to sickness, Jaster knew that, but this had been going on for too long, and Jaster was getting worried.  
> Really really worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Star Wars.  
> Obi is 15, Jango is 22.  
> Please enjoy.

“Ob’ika, you need to eat something.”

“I’m sorry Buir, I'm just not hungry."

“You didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, and you didn’t eat much yesterday, you need to eat.”

Jaster was truly beginning to worry for his youngest ad, and he knew his oldest was worrying too, especially judging by the way Jango was glaring at him across the table.

“I know, I'm sorry. I just don’t have an appetite.”

“That is enough, you are sick, you need to see a doctor.”

“Vod.”

“Jango.”

“No, you’re pale, you’re losing weight, you’re always tired, you need to see someone.”

“I’m fine Ori’vod.”

“No. You're not. And I'm worried. Please.”

“Ad, Jango’s right. You're not well, you haven’t been for a while.”

“I’m just tired, Buir.”

“You’ve been just tired for weeks now.”

Jaster flinched at his eldest’s words. He’d been well aware that his youngest wasn’t well, but Obi was always smaller than most, and it was hardly the first time he’d fallen ill. He'd held off on calling for the  baar’ur because he knew his  ad’ika hated his fussing over something that happened all too frequently.

Obi was 15, he wanted his independence, and Jaster respected that, he’d already gone through it once with Jango. He was also apprenticing under Jaster, which was a very formal way of saying he was shadowing Jaster in Council missions and chipping in where he could, learning their political landscape. Jango was 22, and so he spent more time on missions of training his squads than he did in the Council nowadays, though he joined them when Jaster requested it.

Obi-Wan was more pale than usual, and he had lost weight. His eyes and hair had lost their shine and there were bags under his eyes. His shoulders were slumped and he just looked... unwell.

He was all too aware of how easy it was to miss things that built slowly over time, he saw it with politics, factions building their power or support slowly until they became a threat. He’d seen it with Jango more than once, even if it was usually small things like growing his hair out, Jaster had only realised he was going it once it passed his nose.

But how had he missed how bad this had become?

“Ob’ika, I want you to go see a baar’ur. Please.”

“Elek, Buir.”

“And please, try to eat something.”

“Elek, Buir.”

.

.

.

Jaster took the next morning off, and called the  baar’ur to their apartments. Jaster had wanted to call for them the minute Obi-Wan had conceded to see one, but he’d insisted it wasn’t urgent enough to take their evening away from them. He'd go down during open hours, even though the whole point of the Royal Doctors was to be available to treat members of the  Alor’aliit and the  aliit of the court as well as the guards stationed in his home.

The next morning, Obi hadn’t shown up for breakfast, and Jaster had sighed, leaving the table for his ad’ika’s room.

He was expecting Obi to be reading his book, or messing with a council report, but he was still in bed, and Jaster knew instantly he didn’t have the strength to leave the bed. He could see it.

For the first time in a long time, he doubted his ad’s ability to defend himself, he looked like he’d be knocked over by a breeze, forget an actual fight. And no matter how much he tried to remind himself he was capable of fighting far harder than anyone would believe, right now he was reminding Jaster far too much of the ik’aad he’d brought home with him.

“Obi?”

“Su’cuy, Buir.”

The cheery joking tone alleviated his worry a little as he darted to his side, checking his forehead for a temperature and, if he was being honest, fussing.

“M’fine. Just... just tired.”

“Bantha osik.”

“Really, just... just give me...”

And Obi-Wan was trying to get out of bed. Despite looking like death, he was foolishly trying to get up. Jaster could see the muscles in his arms shaking as he tried to rise and it took no effort at all to push him back down, decided to tuck the covers back up over his shoulders tightly, ran to the door and yelled for Jango to call the  baar’ur now. By the time he returned, this time with Jango who’d grabbed his comm and ran with a walk just shy of a run, Obi-Wan had again removed the covers and was trying to leave the bed, though he looked like he end up flat on the floor if he tried to move.

Obi tried to insist he had the strength for to get up and go down to the clinic, but both Jaster and Jango had refused him the chance to even try. Instead of going to the clinic, one of the Royal Doctors was coming up to them.

Jango was stubbornly refusing to leave his  vod’ika and Jaster didn’t blame him. He was far too busy blaming himself for not calling for a doctor the night before, when Obi-Wan had been able to leave his bed. He should have called for  B’r Laana then.

B’r Auspa Qest arrived promptly, being the Baar’ur on shift, brought by a guard to Obi-Wan's room, where he and Jango were both by Obi-Wan’s bed, worrying. She was certainly thorough, temperature, blood tests, measuring his oxygen and a thousand other things.

It was very worrying that Baar’ur Qest could not work out what was wrong quickly or with ease, but she assured him that the symptoms were vague and that there was nothing that raised alarms except for the length of time the symptoms had been presenting for. Some of his mineral levels were a little low, but that was not uncommon with exhaustion like this and could be countered.

She was an incredible doctor, one of the best in the Haat’ad, and he trusted her to work out what was wrong. Even if it took some time.

She ordered Obi-Wan to bed rest until he’d gained some energy and colour back, put a fluid drip into his arm and left to go hunting for some answers.

“Oh yeah, you’re absolutely fine, aren’t you Ob’ika?”

Jango's voice was light as he teased, poking the bag of fluids, but it didn’t fool either of them.

“Ughhhh, I felt fine yesterday.”

“And this morning, you can barely raise your head, so maybe not.”

“I’d barely woken up. I'm fine now.”

Personally, Jaster thought if Obi-Wan tried to get up he’d probably fall on his face, but he wasn’t planning on voicing it. Obi-Wan looked annoyed enough without being ganged up on and he wasn’t stupid enough to go against B’r Qest.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you, vod’ika.”

“Buir, since Jango won’t let me leave the bed, could I have my padd? It's on the desk.”

If it kept him in the bed, he was happy to get the  padd . The accusation and petulance in his voice was almost amusing enough to nullify his worry.

Almost.

“Ugh, would you both leave, already. Buir, you can do nothing pacing and sitting by my bedside. You have a  peoples to run. And Jango, don’t you recruits to train.”

“Oh no, I'd rather stay here, Ob’ika.”

“Jango, you’re the future a lot of things. Go train.”

“But...”

“I have my book, I have my comm, I have water and some nutri-mush, there are guards, I'll be fine.”

“I no longer believe you when you say that.”

“Buir, please. You have things to do, both of you.”

Jaster knew he was right, frustratingly, that his duty to  Mandalore had to come first, but leaving his  ad’ika alone when he was sick made him feel sick to the stomach to think about. He'd done it before, but he’d always know what was wrong before.

This was... they didn’t know what this was.

Still, he’d only taken the morning off, he did have a system full of planets to run.

With the lunch hours almost over, he  acquiesced that they did have to leave, that the guards would have to be enough for Obi-Wan.

.

.

.

The entire room fell silent as he entered, all members rising to their feet, hands on hearts with bows of respect as he strode from the doors to his throne, the Council only taking their seats once he himself was seated. It was an ancient and frankly unnecessary tradition, in Jaster’s opinion, and with only his  Haat’ad , he probably would have decided not to stand on tradition, but this was his council, the Clan Heads,  Haat’ad and New Mandalorian, and if he was going to manage to keep all of their respect to lead, he was going to have to make sacrifices.

Like running with formalities, almost all the damn time.

“Alor,” Adoni greeted, “no Obi-Wan?”

“He’s on bed rest, until  Baar’ur Qest deems otherwise. He is sick.”

“Do they know what’s wrong?”

“Not yet, but he kicked me out of his rooms. Jango too. I think he was annoyed about me pacing a trail into his floor.”

That spurred a laugh out of them.

“It’s your job to worry.”

“Obi hates people worrying.”

“Don’t all  ade his age.”

“Right, to business.”

No Council meeting had ever gone slower, not that Jaster didn’t understand the importance of production trends or trading route issues, but it didn’t exactly take his mind of his worried. 

He managed five hours before he called it a day, dismissing the Council, and fleeing the room in every way but actually fleeing. It was partly because all real business had been achieved and all that was left were the normal and unending arguments, and partly because he wanted to talk to the Baar’ur and see what they’d found.

He went straight for the  baar’ur’s office.

“ B’r Qest, what have you found?”

“Alor, I wish I had better news, but I cannot find the source of this illness.”

“How? How can you not, our medical archives are some of the best in the galaxy?”

“It's not entirely bad news, if it was something serious that we knew about, I'd have found signs of it. This... I’ll want to do another few blood cultures and alter his diet for a while.”

“You think this could be a poison?”

“There are some that are incredibly difficult to find even with advancements in toxicology like ours. It's not impossible that it could be, and given that most of his results are showing deficiencies in vitamins, if we changed his diet temporarily to sealed nutri-packs we could likely raise them without raising suspicion and also removing the toxin if there is one.”

“We will do that. If its not poison, what else could it be?”

“A virus of some sort, though I doubt it. He hasn't been off world recently...”

“He’s been getting worse for a while.”

“I know. It could be genetic, and I'm still running some scans for that, but there’s nothing I can think of at the moment that could be causing this.”

“We change his food, we get someone to run checks on everyone in the kitchens, cameras to watch food production, if there is an assassin after my ad, we will find them.”

The promise of what he’d do if he caught an assassin did not need to be spoken aloud.

.

.

.

To Jaster’s relief and with  B’r Qest’s permission, Obi joined them for dinner, and to his... it wasn’t joy but it was better than nothing, Obi ate almost half his food. Combined with the IV he’d had, Jaster hoped it would be enough, though from the look on Obi’s face the issue might have been more to do with the lack of taste nuti-packs had than the levels of his appetite.

He'd have to ask whether he was allowed to add some spices to his food.

The one thing she had cleared, to Obi’s relief, was his behot. It was herbal and a natural stimulant with properties that aided in healing and regaining strength and was packed with vitamins.

He was also pretty sure that Obi would kill whomever tried to take his  behot .

The next few days went well, Obi’s strength improved and he was brighter for it.

But it was a temporary  reprieve . 

Obi had been bright enough that morning, tired but insistent that he’d be able to come to the Council meeting, that he had some things he wanted to bring up in the meeting. An argument had become heated, kicked off, and Obi had stood to respond to Adoni’s daughter Satine who was already standing and yelling, only to grasp the table shaking.

Jaster hadn’t made it to his side before he’d collapsed, dropping to his knees by his side, cupping his head onto his lap and calling for someone to call a  baar’ur , which it looked like they’d already done anyway. Already his eyes were fluttering, but he wasn’t waking properly. 

If he’d stayed in bed this might not have  happened.

If he’d stayed in their rooms he might have fallen where no-one was around to check on him, and if he’d hit his head on a desk or something similar...

He couldn’t find a head wound, but Obi wasn’t waking properly and Jaster had to keep calm because he was  Mand’alor , because the  Baar’ur was coming, because they would work out what was wrong.

They had to.

He dismissed his Council as the  baar’ur loaded his  ad’ika onto the stretcher, like most  Mando’ade he was a Buir first in situations like this. The rest of the day blurred a little, tests and medical talk that went over his head and calling Jango to let him know what had happened because Obi was awake but looked like death.

His breath was weaker than it should have been, Laana had informed him, and he was developing a cough from it as his body tried to keep up. The IV and  nutri -packs had been helping keep his energy up, but they weren’t going enough.

He was getting worse.

They still didn’t have the cause.

Terrifyingly, Jaster was taken back to the days he’d first had his  ad’ika , the near-unresponsive  ik’aad he’d held in his arms and begged the  Ka’ra not to take from him.

He was begging now.

Laana and Qest agreed to move him to his room, that they could monitor him from there, but his own bed would be more comfortable than the ones in the clinic.

Bed rest seemed to improve things, the energy he wasn’t expending on movement and the extra hours sleeping lending him extra strength, but Jaster had the awful feeling it was little more than another  reprieve , and they still could not find the cause.

It was not genetic, nor any sickness they had on their databanks, and the test for poisons hadn’t found anything either, not to mention if it had been a poison, surely the change in diet to sealed  nutri -packs would have removed an assassin’s chance to put anything in his food, and if it were in the air or water, it would affect others, so it could not be that.

“Buir, stop worrying.”

“I will always worry about you, ner ik’aad.”

“It is not the first time I have taken ill, sickness comes and goes, I'm sure with rest and time I shall be fine.”

“So am I,” he pressed a kiss to his  ad’ika’s forehead, “but that doesn’t mean I do not worry.”

“Obi?”

“Jango, ori’vod, welcome back, how was the meeting?”

“He’s going after my job  Jan’ika , how was the meeting?”

Jango rubbed his face and seated himself on Obi-Wan's bed, holding his  vod’ika close and upright, and began to recount the trials and tribulations that were textile taxes from the planet Bicilo and the utter travesty that was the cost discrepancy between red and green materials to purple and blue to grey and silver and onwards, especially the black and gold vs light greens. Fabrics are fabrics.

Yeah, Jaster was happy to have missed that one.

He passed  Ob’ika the mug of behot, valuing the smile in his eyes as thanks.

Three more days passed in much the same fashion but by the fourth morning, Obi was barely lucid, and Jaster was praying for a miracle.

It came in the form of four guards, a jar of behot, a bag of powder and a prisoner.

They'd been poisoning the tea.

Jaster wiped a hand over his  ad’ika’s forehead, biting his lip at the way he leant slightly into the touch, and the shuddering breaths and the heat radiating out. 

The  aran’e had come running with the truth, two taking the prisoner to the cells, one running to him, the other  running to the  baar’ur with the poison. 

They had the poison.

They could find the antidote.

Or maybe just removing the intake of poison would be enough, after all, his  ik’aad had been drinking at least 3 cups a day, and for it to have been poisoned, for someone to have dusted the leaves in a fine, tasteless and unnoticeable powder, for months now...

Jaster’s hands were shaking.

His comm buzzed and he’d never pulled it out faster.

“Baar’ur?”

“We’ve found it, we have an antidote, we’re on our way up.”

Jango's head shot up from where it had been resting on his hands on the edge of Obi’s bed, the first genuine smile on his eldest’s face in days beaming up at him.

The door burst open mere moments later, and for the first time in weeks, Jaster could breathe.

.

.

.

The Trial was a very public affair.

The Grand Hall of  Keldabe was meant for Court occasions with hundreds present, and  verde lined the walls, filled the hall, waited and watched.

Jaster stood on the grand dais, full  beskar’gam and cloak, sans his  buy’ce , resting on the arm of his throne behind him. To his right Jango stood in much the same manner, and to his left Obi-Wan, still weaker than normal, but armoured and upright. To the sides of the dais, and lining the it’s stairs, were his Council, steely faced whether  Haat’ad or New Mandalorian.

And on their knees at his feet,  Ecor Relin, the would-be assassin.

“Long Live Tor Vizsla, the True  Mand’alor . Death to the pretender and all their clan.”

“ Ecor Relin, for the crime of treason and the attempted murder of the  alor’ad , you are sentenced to death.”

His body slumped to the floor, and  aran’e moved to take it away as he and his  ade settled on their respective thrones.

Mandalore was strong, and Tor would learn to never go after any of Jaster’s  ade again.

That night 17 suspected  Kyr’tsad camps were  descended upon at once.

That night he had his  ade safe and sound.

The assassin was dead.

It was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Ob'ika- little Obi-Wan (affectionate)  
> Buir- parent  
> ad- child  
> vod- sibling  
> ori'vod- older sibling  
> baar'ur- doctor  
> ad'ika- little child (affectionate)  
> Elek- yes  
> alor'aliit- royal family  
> aliit- family/clan  
> ik'aad- baby (0-3 or affectionate)  
> su'cuy- hello  
> oisk- shit  
> vod'ika- little sibling  
> B'r- shorthand for Baar'ur (ie, Dr)  
> Haat'ad- True Mandalorian (short version)  
> Alor- sole leader  
> ade- children  
> Mand'alor- sole leader  
> Mando'ade- Mandalorians  
> Ka'ra- stars/ ancient mythical ruling council of elders  
> ner ik'aad- my baby (meant affectionately)  
> Jan'ika- little Jango (affectionate)  
> aran'e- guards  
> verde- soldiers  
> beskar'gam- beskar armour  
> buy'ce- helmet  
> alor'ad- child of the sole leader (prince/princess)  
> Kyr'tsad- Death Watch (terrorist group)
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.  
> Funny, I wasn't expecting to do more for this AU, and now there's two more chapters, and maybe a third, though it's not finished yet.  
> My Tumblr is One_Real_Imonkey.  
> Please R+R.


	4. Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is 17, and has several potential suitors vying for his hand.  
> Jango is 24 and has decided anyone who so much as looks at his vod'ika wrong should pay for it.  
> Then he puts his foot in his mouth.  
> Big time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, another update, yay.  
> I don't own Star Wars.  
> There will be more of a note at the end explaining some extra things, but just as a warning, Jango is very overprotective in this but it makes him indirectly insensitive.  
> Also, I hate that only two of Adonai Kryze's children have canon names, I had to make one up. In canon they're Korkies buir, for context, but not in this AU.  
> Please enjoy...

Jango couldn’t help but stop short at the sight of his  vod’ika walking down the halls of their home to his room carrying an almost unmanageably sized bouquet of white Mandalorian peace lilies mixed with other purple flowers.  Sure he was 17, more than old enough to consider courting, but Jango hadn’t realised anyone had caught his  vod’ika’s eye.

“Oh  vod , who are you planning on giving those too?”

“I'm not planning on  giving them to anybody.”

“ Oh come on, Obi, who?”

“I’m not giving them to anybody.”

“You can tell me Obi, come onnnnnnnnnnnn.”

“Fine, you.”

And his arms were suddenly full of the flowers. It took a second to reorganise them so he could even see his vod’ika.

“Me? Obi, I don’t remember us arguing to the point we’d want peace lilies.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and behind him he could practically feel Myles and Silas laughing, which meant he was probably missing something.

Oh.

“Ok, who give them to you?”

“There it is!”

“There we go!”

“Ok,” he shoved the flowers back to his  vod’ika and spun to face his friends, “that’s enough  outta you two clowns.”

He turned around to ask Obi another question, but his sly  vod’ika had taken the excuse to bail while his back was turned. 

Ah well, he’d get him later.

They had training to get to.

.

.

.

Jango had planned on cornering his  vod’ika before lunch, but he’d run over and missed his chance. 

Chances were, Obi and his friends would be down in the market place’s food square, it was the common place for people his age to go between training, apprenticeship lessons and if they were still doing it, education. Obi was apprenticing their Buir in politics, unsurprisingly, but he'd had a free morning as far as Jango had been aware.

Fortunately, the food square was also where  verde on breaks from their own training went, so he and his friends  wouldn't be out of place either, and Jango wasn’t above spying on his  vod .

The square was large and beautiful, with a large open ground space and three levels of  terraces , all of which served different types of food.

Jango, Myles and Silas chose a table on the top terrace that served beautiful  tingilaar wraps, and a few minutes between ordering and their food arriving, he noticed his  vod’ika down on the first terrace taking a table. From the size of it, Jango had to guess he was going to be joined by his friends.

Now that Jango knew someone was courting Obi, he couldn’t help but want to watch, to see if he could work out who it was by watching alone. 

He was certain it was going to be entertaining, until...

“Pre  kriffing Vizsla. No, no way is he going near my  vod .”

“Woah, Jango, sit down.”

“He’s got his arm around my vod’ika.”

“We’re in public. Don't go starting a fight. Obi can handle himself if he has too.”

Before he could storm down to where Obi was sitting, Obi and Vizsla broke apart as they were joined by a few others, all three Kryze children and a few of the other Clan Leader’s ade. 

“See, he’ll be fine, eat your damn food and  interrogate him tonight.”

.

.

.

Jango was utterly  unprepared for the amount of stuff in Obi’s room given to him in courting.

“Tea leaves, a fancy knife?”

“It’s good tea, and a very good quality knife.”

“From Pre  Kriffing Vizsla, are you serious!”

“Why not? Wait, how did you...?”

“We could see you from where we were having lunch.”

“You were spying on me!”

“Not intentionally, but I'm glad I did. Do you really believe that Pre Vizsla is trying to court  you? That all of this,” he gestured around, “doesn’t have an ulterior motive.”

“Maybe if you got your head out of your  shebs you’d realise that most of this isn’t even from Pre. He isn’t the only person trying to court me, you know?”

“He’s not?”

“Nyac. The flowers were from Satine.”

“Kryze?”

“Lek, and the books on architecture and  beskad styles were from Taran.”

“Taran... Taran  Kryze , as in Satine’s brother, Adonai’s eldest?”

Jango knew Taran, he was  Haat’ad like his Buir, he’d fought on the last campaign, been injured pretty badly and was recovering in Keldabe, something that had spurred his sister Satine into even more New Mandalorian principals. He was brave and... actually he’d taken his injury defending an injured Obi-Wan after an unavoidable missile had taken down Obi’s dropship, which would explain how they’d met and where their friendship had come from.

“Lek, he’s nice, we get on well.”

“He’s... nice, I'll admit, a good Mando’ad, brave, but he’s a little older than you?”

“By a year and a half, it’s not that bad.”

“They’re all trying to court you, at once.”

“Lek, they all know it too, apparently they’re vying for my affections, which is stupid, if flattering. If you hadn’t been so focused on Pre, you’d have probably realised while spying on me during lunch.”

“I wasn’t spying, Obi, I was curious.”

“I don’t watch who you have lunch with, judge your choices in dates, which have been frequently questionable by the way.”

“This isn’t about me, this is about Vizsla using you to get to Buir.”

“Or maybe he just likes me. Have you considered that?”

“He’s a Vizsla, he’s the son of Tor Vizsla, it’s in their  treacherous blood.”

“Get out!”

“Obi.”

“Get out of my room! Usen’ye!”

Jango left as asked, he’d clearly upset Obi and didn’t want to make it worse, but he couldn’t understand why Obi was so angry. He just wanted to protect his vod from inevitable harm, why was he so angry about it. Vizsla’s couldn’t be trusted, they just couldn’t, and Jango wasn’t going to let another Vizsla harm another member of his aliit.

Sure, Pre and his Buir, Moran Driz (Not Vizsla, not anymore) claimed they’d ‘escaped’ from Tor, taken their ‘rightful’ places leading Concordia from the temporary Governor that had been managing while the Vizsla’s were away waging war on innocents, with a Clan Vizsla that wasn’t affiliated with Death Watch, and retaken titles that  Jas’Buir had allowed with conditions and a watch that was far more lenient than Jango would have given them. Sure, they’d spent the last few years living on Concordia, seemingly innocent, but a Vizsla was a Vizsla, and he’d been raised by that monster Tor for years before their so-called escape. At first, they were ‘happy’ to settle on Concordia and protect what was there’s and now, all of a sudden, they wanted Pre to come to  Keldabe and represent their clan and learn politics, and now, all of a sudden, he just happened to be falling for Obi.

Obi, who just happened to be the youngest and most targetable son of the Mand’alor.

This war, with their Buir on one side and Tor Vizsla on the other had been going for decades, and between Buir and Vizsla specifically, at least 25 years. He couldn’t imagine the ad of the  kyr’tsad false  alor would be willing to court the true  Alor’ad , even if they’d left him for Concordia and the ‘non  kyr’tsad clan Vizsla’ four years ago. Even if Jango bought his leaving Death Watch, there was a big difference between leaving the evil group and falling in love with someone your  aliit has been at war with for almost 30 years. Besides, why only leave four years ago, why not sooner? They claimed it was so Pre could complete his  verd’goten and claim his armour before they ran, but they also claimed Pre was keeping Vizsla rather than taking his Buir’s name because he wanted to ‘restore’ clan Vizsla. 

Jango just couldn’t trust it.

He wasn’t losing his  Vod’ika to this. 

Not to his own foolish heart.

He didn’t much like Satine  Kryze , Adonai’s middle child could stay on Kalevala for all he cared, after all if she really liked the New Mandalorian ideology so much why not live somewhere where it was already ingrained, but he supposed she was a little young to move out of her  Buire’s care. He could tolerate her, but not as his sister-in-law, and especially not trying to convert Obi to her pacifism.

Taran on the other hand, he could cope with. Taran was 19, which was closer to 20 than he wanted courting his 17-year-old  vod but he was a brave  verde and judging by the book, at least somewhat willing to humour Obi’s interests.

Of the three, he was the most worth of Jango’s  vod’ika’s love.

But he was 17, and that was far too young, so Jango was going to protect him.

.

.

.

Jango felt the second his Buir’s eyes left Obi and refocused on him as his vod’ika breezed through the kitchen to his room, a warm greeting for Jas’Buir and a small nod for Jango.

“Ok, Jan’ika, spill, what’s going on between you two, you’re usually so close, but you’ve barely said a word to each other over the last two days.”

“He’s a  di’kut who’s going to get his heart broken, Buir, I just want to  shield him from that.”

“ Jan’ika , ad, I know you mean well, but he’s growing up. You can’t shield him from everything.”

“But if they’re using him because he’s  your ad, Buir, that’s not fair.”

“No, but you can’t protect him from everything, Jango, and Obi’s got a good head on his shoulders, he... even if he falls for the wrong  person, he’d never  risk this  aliit .”

“But if they kill him, or wound him, or kidnap him because he trusted them and shouldn’t have? People always try to target him Buir, always.”

“Who’s going after his heart that’s worrying you so?”

“Vizsla. Pre Vizsla. He's not alone, but he’s the one that worries me.”

“They left Death Watch.”

“They claim they left Death Watch.”

“Right, claim. I don’t know Pre well enough, but I know Moran, I know what escaping Tor meant and believe me it was planned for longer than you know, even if the two of them only got away four years ago. They’ve done very little to raise suspicion over the last few years, and we have been watching just in case. Obi... he knows what Tor and his have done, but he also knows that people aren’t their blood, they can choose to be more.”

“What?”

"They’ve both left their old families and tried to start anew. Sure, Obi was younger, but it’s the same principal. Friends can become enemies; enemies can become friends.”

“He’s a Vizsla. Tor betrayed you, what’s to stop Pre betraying Obi?”

Jaster paused as though caught out, and for a second Jango tried to imagine Buir at his age, 24, the age he’d been when he’d adopted Jango, already not just fighting but leading. All the while young and undoubtedly scared and having to watch your former friend murder a family and burn their crops in an attempt to kill you, to cradle the child who’d survived the attack close and try to reconcile the person he’d known with the monster that had done this. Thought about Buir at Obi’s age, Tor’s arms slung over his shoulder the way Pre’s had been around Obi’s, with the hindsight to know less than a year later they’d meet on opposite sides of the battle field for the first time. Tried to imagine the sting as your former friend tried to rip out your throat, tried to murder your ade, tried to take everything from you.

Tried to imagine himself in those shoes, Silas or Myles across the field, blasters aimed at him.

He honestly didn’t know where his Buir got his strength, he knew he wouldn’t have coped so well.

“Tor was a... friend, once, but it wasn’t a betrayal, Jango, we were falling apart long before we ended up at war with each other. We agreed that the New Mandalorians were wrong, but on basically nothing more than that, he’s never had honour. He was always going to join  Kyr’tsad and I was always going to join the  Haat’ad , it was always going to be a matter of time until we ended up fighting each other, no matter what we’d told each other as  ade . Pre, at the very least he seems to be trying. He could have stayed with Tor instead of leaving with Moran, he was 13, old enough to make that choice. And it was Moran’s idea for him to learn politics here, so he could become governor of Concordia when he was older with good political role models. As far as I've seen, as far as anyone’s said, he’s adjusting well.”

“I just don’t want to be caught out again. One day we’re going to be too late.”

“I know, but you shouldn’t underestimate your  vod’ika either. He can hold his own. You said he wasn’t the only one, who else is trying to court him?”

“That I know off, two of Adonai’s kids.”

“ Taran I get, but Satine?”

“Yep. She bought him peace lilies.”

“He’s willing to listen when she goes off on one, he likes the idea of negotiations over attack similarly to us but he’s more vocal about it, maybe she thinks she can convert him to the New Mandalorians.”

“Funny.”

“I try.”

“So, Taran, you approve?”

“Jango. There are Raus and Eldars and Rooks and  Qests and Ris and  Olos and a tonne of other clans with strong  verde and  Haat’ad loyalties, Adoni is a... an ally and friend, but he’s not marrying a Kryze.”

“Unless he turns his  tooka eyes on you.”

“Yeah... he’ll always be ner ik’aad, and your vod’ika, so work out what you did specifically that’s upset him so much, because I can guarantee it wasn’t you spying on him.”

“I wasn’t spying.”

.

.

.

Myles elbowed him for the fifth time.

“Maybe we, I don’t know, find somewhere else for lunch? Say, somewhere where you aren’t watching your  vod like a  jai’galaar. ”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re growling and grumbling like an angry  strill . They're 17, Jango, it’s not love, they’re kids. You remember being that age.”

“One, I never had a fling with a big clan name like theirs, two, one fling it all it takes for someone to slip something in your drink or pull a knife across your throat.”

“You think middle-Kryze is going to pick up a knife, let alone slit his throat?”

He glanced down and sure enough she was practically on top of him. He didn’t know how Taran was managing to compete for someone with his  vod , especially when they couldn’t just fight for it. 

Pre rested a hand on Obi’s shoulder as he gestured something in front of them, and Silas elbowed him for the fourth time.

“Fine.”

He ignored the way his ‘friends’ snickered as they walked away.

.

.

.

It was another day before Jango managed to pin Obi down, finding him on the highest level of the stands around the large training field, resting forwards against the hand rail/safety bar, legs hanging over the edge watching the matches below.

He didn’t acknowledge Jango as he sat, but he refused to be dissuaded. He was setting things right with his vod’ika. They'd never argued like this before, and he hated it.

“Obi, please, what’s wrong?”

“I have an  ori’vod that doesn’t think before he speaks.”

“It had been said. Please, Obi, what did I say?”

“Do you hate Pre for anything he did, or because of who his Buir is?”

“Obi, you’re young, you haven’t seen the war the way we have. It's been going longer than you’ve been alive.”

“Answer the question.”

“Tor Vizsla killed my Buire, Obi, he’d tried to kill Buir many times, tried to get Montross to kidnap you, tried to kill you and has nearly succeeded more than once on and off the battlefield, of course it’s coloured my perception of his ad.”

“But his Buir took him away from Tor, they escaped.”

“They say they did. But we can’t be sure.”

For the first time in their  conversation , Obi looked right at him.

“Do you really think people can’t rise above their blood?”

Oh. Oh  kriff . 

This was what Buir had meant.

His  Dar’buire had been  demagolka , and Jango had spent the last week insisting someone was evil because their Buir was. No wonder Obi had been so offended,  kriff he was such an  utreekov . 

“What, no, Obi, of course not. You're so much better than them. Never thing you’ll be like that, it’s not in your soul.”

“But Pre is evil?”

“I... it’s different, Obi. It's not the same, you’re  Haat’ad , he’s  kyr’tsad , it’s... it’s just different.”

It was different. Obi's  dar’buire had been  demagolka , but not kyr’tsad, Death Watch was a whole new level of evil...

“You don’t have to like him Jango, but please, give him a chance. He left kyr’tsad, he wants something better, he wants to be able to feel safe and now he’s here he gets that.”

And  Ob’ika knew exactly how that felt, even if he’d been younger, to move from a place of danger to one of safety, so of course a kinship had come from that.

“I suppose if you’re really considering courting him...”

He could give the boy a chance, one, and only one, and if he messed that up and hurt Obi or anyone else Jango was going to deal with it.

“What no, I'm 17, flattering as it is, I don’t plan on courting anyone for a few years at least. They all understand that, they’re just trying to win my favour for when I am ready, apparently. Honestly it feels like it’s more to do with them than it is with me at this point, though I still consider them all my friends. And when, if, I do start looking for a  riduur , they will have had a head start.”

Jango wrapped an arm around his  vod’ika’s shoulder and pulled him into his side.

“I’ll hold off on scaring off your suitors for now. And I'll give Vizsla a chance.” Jango tapped his vambrace against Obi’s, the metal giving out a ring, “Wanna spar?”

Obi tapped back and pressed the sides of their heads together.

“I’m going to kick your ass.”

His  vod’ika shoved him, unhooking his legs and making for the stairs.

“Hey!”

Jango darted after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> vod'ika- little sibling  
> vod- sibling  
> verde- soldiers  
> tingilaar- spicy Mando stew/casserole/meal  
> ade- children  
> shebs- ass/arse/butt/buttocks, I'll stop.  
> nyac- no  
> beskad- beskar sword  
> Haat'ad- true Mandalorian (short)  
> Buir- parent  
> lek- yeah  
> Mando'ad- child of Mandalore/ mandalorian  
> Usen'ye- go away/fuck off (strong phrase)  
> aliit- family/clan  
> Jas'Buir- parent Jaster  
> Mand'alor- sole leader  
> ad- child  
> alor- sole leader  
> kyr'tsad- Death Watch  
> verd'goten- coming of age trial  
> Buire- parents  
> Jan'ika- little Jango (affectionate)  
> di'kut- idiot  
> ner ik'aad- my baby  
> jai'galaar- Shriek-hawk  
> ori'vod- big sibling  
> dar'buire- no longer parents  
> demagolka- child abusers/ war criminals/monsters (worst of the worst)  
> utreekov- empty headed fool  
> Ob'ika- little Obi-Wan (affectionate)  
> riduur- spouse
> 
> So Pre is 17 and supposedly aligned with the Haat Mando'ade and he and his Buir are looking after Concordia, he's come to Keldabe to learn politics, or maybe to spy. Whether they're also working with Tor Vizsla, Pre's other Buir, or not is up to the reader, as is whether Pre was really interested in Obi or whether Jango's right and it's a cover. Pre did declare Tor dar'buir and divorce himself from his parents as only children can on Mandalore, but whether it was real or not is up to you.  
> I probably won't elaborate from this story or with relationships because I want this AU to focus on Obi's childhood, but it would be cool to see where other people take it/ would take it.  
> Was I hinting at past JasTor. Maybe, but only if you want it too, haha.  
> Another note, I don't love Satine, though in this story she's not irredeemable. Her Buir and ori'vod were both injured fighting and it's swayed her into wanting more pacifism, especially as Bo-Katan plans on following them into the fight. However, she's not going to be Haat'ad Obi-Wan's type. In canon... I don't dislike her ideals, I just think that the New Mandalorians leaving Kalevala where those principals are in place, moving to Mandalore, assimilating into their society and then imposing their own culture to the point where the Mandalorians were losing part of their culture... it doesn't sit right. Not the main point, just wanted to mention it.  
> Also I love her as an antagonist, she had great potential to be a very unique female bad guy, and I've written something with that before, I'm getting off topic.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.  
> My Tumblr is One_Real_Imonkey if you have a prompt, idea etc.  
> Please R+R.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a:  
> Mand'alor- sole leader  
> ik'aad- baby 0-3 yrs old.  
> Mando'ade- mandalorians  
> ade- children  
> Buir- parent  
> vod'ika- little sibling  
> baar'ur- doctor  
> B'r- short for baar'ur (doctor, ie saying Dr)  
> ad'ika- little child 3-13 (affectionate)  
> Alor-sole leader  
> dar'buire- not parents/ no longer parents  
> demagolka- child abusers/war criminals/ worst insult  
> Manda- soul energy/afterlife/ the Force.  
> ad- child  
> vor entye- thank you. lit I owe you a debt  
> Vor'e- thanks  
> Ka'ra- stars/ancient mythical council of elders  
> buy'ce- helmet  
> Jan'ika- little Jango (affectionate)  
> haran- hell  
> Ob'ika- little Obi-Wan (affectionate)  
> aliit- family.  
> Jetiise- Jedi (plural)  
> Manda'yaim- Mandalore (The planet)  
> aran'e- guards  
> verde- soldiers  
> ori'vod- older sibling  
> shebs- arses  
> Kyr'tsad- Death Watch  
> verd'goten- coming of age ritual  
> Haat'ad- True Mandalorians  
> Alor'ade- children of the Mand'alor
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.  
> For now this is a One-shot, but at some point I suppose it could be followed up. And it's open to someone else following it up should they chose to.  
> My Tumblr is One_Real_Imonkey.  
> Please R+R.


End file.
